


Salt Water

by eiluned



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Come Swallowing, Cunnilingus, Desire, F/M, Fingerfucking, First Time, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Pre-Avengers (2012)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 12:10:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/887115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiluned/pseuds/eiluned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His skin tastes like salt water, and she wants to taste all of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salt Water

**Author's Note:**

> This started as body worship fic, but it turned into an experiment in playing with points of view and tense shifts. So the tense changes are on purpose! :D Big thanks to my Hive girls for beta reading and cheerleading! 
> 
> Feedback is always highly appreciated; I'd love to know what you think!

His skin tastes like salt water.

She starts at his hipbone and traces the trails of ocean that slipped down his tanned flesh, lapping up the salt. She explores every ridge of muscle in his flat stomach, loves the strength of use and hard work she can feel there. He is strong because he fights, not because he vainly lifts weights. He is strong and flexible, and she wants to twist him into knots of pleasure.

* * *

_It was a close quarters mission. They were holed up together in a goddamn shack on a beach in Nicaragua, tracking a drug cartel, and close quarters with her when it had been a good goddamn long while since Clint had gotten laid meant that he was about to claw down the fucking walls._

_And Natasha, in her typically uncanny way, could read it in him._

_He plunged into the Caribbean, but the water was too warm to cool him off, to quench the hot lust that kindled in his body at the sight of her. He thought she had gone into the jungle to check their cameras, but when he burst into the shack clad in just his wet boxer-briefs, she looked up at him from the book she was reading._

* * *

Her tongue swirls around each flat, brown nipple until they are tight peaks, and he's breathing hard, hands fisted in the thin bedsheets. He tastes like the sea here, too, and she licks at the salt starting to dry across his chest, brushing her nose over the soft hair scattered across his pectorals, lapping at the tiny pool of water in the hollow of his collarbone.

The moan that escapes his throat sends a surprising surge of heat through her body.

* * *

_He didn't want a pity fuck from Natasha, or a pity tugjob or a pity blowjob or whatever it was she had planned, but he was too far gone in the insanity of lust to stop her when she pushed him down onto the bed and set her tongue to his hip._

_It wasn't that he didn't want to fuck her. He wanted to fuck her from the first moment he saw her, but even he (Clint Barton, King of Bad Relationship Decisions) knew what a bad idea it would have been to screw the twenty year old girl he'd been sent to kill but had brought home like a stray kitten instead. Fury would have had him cleaning the latrines on the Helicarrier, busted down to private (if that were such a thing in S.H.I.E.L.D.)._

_It didn't stop him from wanting her._

_He just didn't want her to do this because she felt sorry for him. Poor Barton, stuck in the jungle with no chance for a one night stand._

_He moaned when she lapped at his nipples, sucked in a startled breath at the feel of her teeth scraping over the tender flesh, and he knew he should stop her. This was a bad idea, and if he knew it, then it had to be really bad._

_She lifted her head from the hollow of his throat when he slid his hand into her hair, all parted lips and darkened eyes, and he wanted to tell her to stop._

* * *

She doesn't let him.

The protest gutters in his eyes like a snuffed candle, and he pulls her mouth to his.

He tastes like the ocean, like everything dark and deep, warm and cold, like drowning, like everything that both frightens and fascinates her. She fists her hands in his wet hair, crawling on top of him, and his wet skin soaks into her thin tank top.

When he draws back to gasp for breath, she pushes herself upright astride his hips and watches his eyes fall to her breasts. "Let me do this for you," she whispers, her voice huskier than she thought it would be.

That little flame of protest strikes up again, and he shakes his head. "Nat, I don't want you to... I dunno, feel obligated or feel sorry for me–" he begins, but she touches two fingertips to his lips to silence his protests.

"I don't feel obligated," she says. "I don't feel sorry for you. I want to do this. I want you."

And all the protest dies away, replaced by hot lust that flushes his cheeks and darkens his eyes.

* * *

_She slipped off of him, and for a split second he wondered if she was just fucking with him or something (get him all revved up and then leave him in the dust) but she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his shorts and tugged them down, letting them fall to the floor._

_He was already embarrassingly hard, his dick straining against his stomach, and she bit her bottom lip, the edge of a smile playing at her mouth. Her shirt was nearly transparent where it was wet, where her tits rubbed against him, and her nipples grew hard under his gaze, pink peeking through the white cotton. He wanted to rip that tank top to shreds, get his mouth on her and watch her writhe._

_But she dropped to her knees between his spread thighs, slowly peeling the shirt off of her body, and he barely got a glimpse of her naked breasts before they were pressed against his stomach._

_"Oh fuck," he groaned when she picked back up where she left off, dragging her soft tongue across his collarbone._

* * *

She wants to taste him again, to fill her mouth with the salty flavor of his skin, wants to use his skin to whet her appetite for darker, more intimate tastes. Following the path of a vein, she sucks at the skin of his shoulder, moving slowly down his bicep, leaving a trail of faint marks behind.

His corded forearms had turned into an object of fantasy early on, and she spends a good, long while tracing the tendons and muscles there, drawing her tongue along the path of a vein that stood out from elbow to wrist. He gasps when she sets her teeth into his wrist, and she loves how helpless that sound is, as if he can't help but relent to pleasure in that little bit of pain.

She has always liked the sight of his big hands and long fingers, and catching his gaze, she sucks the first two into her mouth, the fingers he uses to draw his bow. His eyes slam shut and he moans, thrusting his erection against her stomach, and she knows he's imagining her mouth somewhere else.

Pushing herself upright, she lets his fingers slip from her mouth and catches his wrist, bringing his hand to her breast as she crawls onto the bed beside him. A droplet of sea water from his sideburn slips down over the strong curve of his jaw, and she chases it with her tongue, sucking at the salty skin of his neck as he kneads her breast in his strong hand.

* * *

_She was hot and soft and right up against him, her thigh slung over his, and he thought he would lose his mind. Her breast was round and firm, heavy in his hand, and just touching her like this made his cock strain away from his stomach. She sucked at his neck, right below his ear, right in the spot that made him fucking squirm and she had to be a mind-reader, to know exactly what to do to turn him into a groaning mess._

_When he plucked her nipple between his fingers, her breath hitched in his ear, her body undulating against his, and the thought that she was turned on by this, by_ him _, made the last functioning logic center of his brain shut down._

_She nipped at his earlobe, her breathing uneven, the beginnings of a soft whine starting in her throat. When her warm little hand slid down the trail of hair in the middle of his stomach, ruffling it the wrong direction, the threw his head back, gasping her name when her fingers brushed at his straining dick._

* * *

He's thick and hot in her hand, and she moves back between his legs, dips her head to lap at a drop beading at the tip of his cock. The bitter-salt flavor of his come bursts across her tongue, and when she drags the flat of her tongue up the length of him, she tastes _him_. It's the scent she catches when he moves close to her, something warm and musky, and it fills her nose and mouth as she breathes him in.

He arches off of the thin mattress with a groan when she swallows him down, and she presses his hips back down, holding him in place as she sucks him. She's never had feelings one way or the other about sucking cock, but she likes the feel of him, the solid weight and soft skin in her mouth, being nearly overwhelmed by his scent and taste. She likes kneeling between his legs as if she were subservient to him but knowing that she has power, that she holds his reins.

Looking up at his face, she finds him watching her intently, his eyes piercing, and it sends another jolt of desire through her.

When she went to him, she just wanted to help him blow off some steam. He was making her crazy with his constant pacing and grumbling, and she thought that a good orgasm was just what he needed. Of course she's always found him attractive, but what she started wasn't about what she wanted. It was about what he needed.

But she's caught in his gaze, and she feels wetness building between her thighs, the heat of lust flushing her cheeks. She wants to feel him come on her tongue, and she knows she'll think of this moment when she's alone. She knows she'll make herself come with his name on her lips, his face and his body in her mind.

* * *

_She was so fucking beautiful and so fucking good, her hot tongue cupping the underside of his cock as she sucked him, her hand stroking in counterpoint to her mouth. He wanted to touch her, to tangle his fingers in her hair and stroke her face, feel her cheeks hollow as she drew back before plunging down onto him again, but he was almost afraid to, as if touching her would make this fever dream vanish into nothingness._

_But when she looked up at him, her green eyes heavy-lidded and her full lips stretched around his dick, he couldn't stop himself from touching her._

_She shivered when he cupped her cheek in his hand, one corner of her mouth turning up a bit and a blush spreading across her cheeks. And then she redoubled her efforts, sucking and licking and stroking and driving him out of his mind so effectively that he was going to lose it embarrassingly quickly._

_"Gonna come," he rasped, tugging lightly at her hair in warning._

_But she didn't pull off of his cock, didn't pull away and jerk him off like he expected. She just hummed in reply, the vibration sending a jolt straight to his balls, and took him all the way in. She didn't stop until her nose was buried in his pubes and her chin pressed against his balls, and then she swallowed, her throat squeezing the head of his cock._

_He swore. He thought he swore a lot, but he honestly couldn't remember what he said because he was coming down her throat, his dick jerking in her mouth. He forced himself to open his eyes after the first couple of spasms, and he watched her lift her head, opening her mouth to catch his spurts of come on her tongue and lips._

* * *

She licks her lips and then licks him clean, swallowing his come, and she presses her hand between her thighs, rocking to try to relieve the ache there. His head falls back on the bed, and one last shudder wracks his body before he goes boneless, a wordless moan rushing from his lungs.

The sight of him sprawled out, relaxed at last, makes her smile to herself, satisfied that she can wreck him so completely. But when she stands to go wash her face, he unsteadily pushes himself up onto his elbows. "Wait... wait, I want to..." he stammers, then closes his eyes for a second to collect his thoughts. "Please, Tasha, let me do something for you, too."

She cocks her head, looking at him thoughtfully. "What do you mean?" she asks, mostly because she wants to hear it in his own words.

He licks his lips, looking at her intensely.

"I want to make you come."

She catches her bottom lip between her teeth, suddenly hesitant.

* * *

_She bit her lip, and from the pressure of her hands on his thighs, he could tell that she was about to get up, about to bolt on him, and goddammit, that wasn't what he wanted._

_He sat up and caught her wrist before she could push herself to her feet. "Tasha, wait," he said, but he wasn't sure exactly what he wanted to say to follow up on that._

_"You want to make me come," she said flatly, and he felt himself flush with more than just the heat in the room._

_Swallowing hard, he ran his other hand back through his hair, already drying and stiffening from the salt water. "Yeah."_

_"Why?"_

_The question was so incongruous that Clint blinked dumbly for a few seconds. "B-because?" he stammered, then shook his head to clear it, his thumb brushing over the soft skin of her wrist. "Because I–"_

_"Because you feel sorry for me?" she interrupted with a smirk. "Or because you feel obligated?"_

_His scowl just made her smirk harder. "No," he said firmly. "Because you just... well, fuck, you just made me feel goddamn incredible, and I... I want to return the favor."_

_"So you feel like you have to reciprocate."_

_Her expression had gone solemn, and goddamn if he hadn't stuck his foot in his fucking mouth. He was no good with words in situations like this, not when his brain was all twisted up with wants and needs and emotions he didn't even want to put a name to._

_So he did the best thing he could think of. He kissed her._

* * *

It's just as good as the first kiss, and she likes that he's forward with that sort of thing, pulling her on top of him, into his kisses, meeting her aggression with his own. She likes the softness of his lips and tongue and the way his hand clutches at her hair.

"I want to make you come," he murmurs against her lips, his tongue darting out to lap up a salty drop at the corner of her mouth. "I want you. I want you bad."

His words turn her bones to liquid heat, and at her breathy acquiescence, he rolls her underneath him, reversing their positions.

She wants to ask him how he's going to make her come, but before she can put the words together, he's tugged her shorts and panties off and dropped his head between her legs, lifting her thighs onto his shoulders.

He's always been the the type to plan things out before jumping in, but he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss against her mound without so much as a warning. Her back comes off of the bed in an arch and she fists her hand in his hair, and maybe he has been planning this because he has her writhing, riding his mouth, in under a minute.

She throws her head back when he presses his fingers inside of her, her thighs straining against his hold as he circles her clit with his tongue.

He's going to take her apart piece by piece, and it makes her shudder to realize just how badly she wants it.

* * *

 _Her thighs clamped around his head when she came, her fingers pulling his hair hard enough to make him wonder if he'd have a bald spot, but she was_ coming _. Over the rushing in his ears, he could hear his name in her throaty cries and that made him flush all the way down to his toes._

_When her thighs relaxed slightly, he pushed them up and apart, doubling down on her clit again until she was swearing at him and telling him to stop even as she held his mouth in place with her grip on his hair, bucking against his mouth. A few more suckling licks and she came a second time, so far gone that her cursing had switched to Russian._

_His ego inflated to bursting, he started to go for number three, but she pushed herself up on her elbows and yanked his head away, shuddering hard. But she didn't push him away; she dug her fingernails into his arm and pulled him up onto the bed, on top of her._

_She still tasted like his come, and he delved deep into her mouth, tasting the way he had marked her. She sucked on his tongue, whimpering when he slipped his hand between her thighs, and much to his ego's satisfaction, she came a third time on his fingers with her nipple in his mouth._

_And she held onto him until the heat and humidity were too oppressive, until they had to break apart and gasp for breath._

* * *

Most of the time she has an escape route planned for every situation.

They're sprawled as best they can be on the narrow bed, bodies naked and shining with the humidity. She can't help but trace the path of a drop of sweat as it slips over the flat of his stomach; she can't stop himself from touching him, and it it weren't so fucking hot, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from crawling on top of him, taking him the way she really wants to.

He rolls onto his side and presses his lips against her bare shoulder, traces his callused fingertips over the outer curve of her breast.

She doesn't know how to escape from this situation.

She doesn't know if she even wants to.


End file.
